If a Body Catch a Body
by ellequoi
Summary: The Winchesters investigate a series of mysterious letters written by one Barney Stinson that lead them to visit their friendly local Goliath National Bank.


If a Body Catch a Body

"Oh my gosh, look at this," Sam said to his brother. "Might be our new case."

Dean peered over Sam's shoulder to look at the laptop. "Is this for real?" He read the letter on the screen aloud:

_Dear Dawn,  
The time we spent together, however long it was, meant the world to me. I would love to see you again, but unfortunately I cannot. You see, I am a ghost. I can only materialize once every decade on the anniversary of my death. I chose to spend my one day among the living with you, sweet Dawn. Perhaps we will meet again in another decade, provided you keep your figure.  
Until then, all my love from the beyond,  
Barney_

"You can't seriously think this is a case, Sam! It looks like a frat prank."

"I came across a pretty big list of women who received the same letters. Half of them hadn't even met a Barney but some guy named Ted instead."

"A decade apart?"

"No, but..."

"You don't think that if there was a ghost that showed up just to have sex with people, that I would've _found_ it by now?"

"Then I'm sure you and Barney will hit it off." Sam shrugged in response to Dean's incredulous stare. "What, you're the only one who can make with the gay jokes? Anyway, it's not the ghost part that had me wondering. Enough women have gotten that letter over time for me to think it might be an incubus."

"Kinda smart, actually," Dean said. "He'd have to be old to have enough control to not drain them, but if he can come back to the same woman in ten years, it saves a lot of scouting."

"So - New York, then?"

"Well..." Dean hesitated. "Let's see what information we can find out here first."

Sam looked around at their motel room, which sported a large mural of toucans getting rained on. "Really? You'd rather be here than on the road to New York?"

"Parking sucks there, and I don't trust a New Yorker with my baby."

Anything Sam said would only be met with the whole older-than-you excuse, so he stayed quiet.

They spent the next hour or so trying to find out more about the elusive Barney - or Sam did, at least. Judging by the steady stream of snickering coming from Dean's side of the table, his brother had been goofing off the whole time.

"Dude, you're the one who wanted to stay here!" Sam snapped. "Do I have to do everything myself?"

"No, Sammy, I found him," Dean said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "He has a blog."

"How do you know it's him?"

"It was pretty obvious. Now listen-listen to this-"

Dean forced Sam to hear about the Bro Code for another hour as Sam sat and fumed until eventually, Sam gave up and went out to get food.

"Don't forget my pie!"

When Sam got back, he found Dean dressed up like a businessman, eyes still leaking from his laughing fit.

"What are we doing now?" asked Sam, expecting nothing good.

"Barney Stinson works for a company called Goliath National Bank - pretty high up. I was thinking we should pay them a visit, check out his employee files. I mean, it's not a typical incubus gig."

"He's not a typical incubus though, right?"

"Yeah. Two hundred women in, what, eight years? He must just take a little from each one to avoid detection."

"So who are we going to be? FBI, IRS?"

"Actually," Dean said, "from what I hear about this bank, I think they'll trust us more if it's just a matter of a visit from corporate. Suit up, Sam!"

---

The bank office was not what the Winchesters had expected. When they came in, security was occupied with a man dressed as a ninja (Sam pointed the EMF at him just in case - but nope, just a crazy person), so getting through was easy. Figuring out where to go next, though... not as much.

"We have to go somewhere middle management," said Sam. "They're scared of authority and won't know what the heads do, so they won't question us. But they can't be too low down, or they won't have access and will wonder why we're bothering."

"I think we should just take HR," Dean argued. "They'll _actually_ have the files, plus HR's always full of chicks."

Sam stared at him. "Big head, Dean, not little head."

"What? I picked up a few things from that Barney's blog that I want to try out, and a chick's going to be easier to convince. You know that."

They locked their gazes on each other, shaking their fists in preparation for the deciding game of rock, paper, scissors. However, Sam got distracted by the ninja's next moves and let his hand unfurl.

"Yes!" Dean pumped his fist in the air. "Scissors is the _best_!"

The elevator was packed full, so they weren't able to discuss their strategy on the way up. That left them speechless when they got out on the twelfth floor and were greeted by a cheery secretary.

Sam cast his eyes around wildly, looking for a name.

"We're looking to see... uh... Angela Moore," he said.

"And who should I say is calling?"

Sam and Dean flashed their fake employee badges. "We were sent here by Barney Stinson," Dean said, winking at her.

"Oh! Well, if Mr. _Stinson_ sent you, you'd better go right in. I'll tell Ms. Moore you're coming."

"Who's Angela Moore?" Dean whispered to Sam as they wandered through the halls, looking for her placard. "What does she do?"

"I don't know! I just saw her name by the elevator doors. If her name's up there, she must be important, right? Oh hey, here it is."

A short, round woman burst out of the door just as they approached. "Gentleman," she said, eyes narrowed. "I see Headquarters is keeping busy this week."

"Oh yes," said Sam, as Dean said, "Very."

"So what can I do for you today?"

"We need access to the employee files here for an hour."

"May I ask why?"

They flashed their IDs again. "Confidential business, I'm afraid."

Angela Moore glared. "Of course," she said sweetly. "You gentleman make yourselves right at home."

Dean and Sam smiled at her awkwardly before heading in to access her terminal.

"What're the odds she's heading out to release the hounds on us right now?" Dean asked.

"I give it ten minutes," Sam said glumly, tapping furiously at the keyboard. A short while later, he said, "Holy shit."

Dean came over from where he was standing watch. "What?"

"It says if we try and guess the password one more time, they'll send nuclear bombs on us and blame it on North Korea."

"Please. How would they know where we are?"

"I don't know, but there's a map here with crosshairs on the Toucan Sam motel."

"Okay, let's back up a little then. What can we get at the current level of access?"

Sam shook his head. "There's just the typical C.V. here, and... wait... is that a _video_?"

They watched Barney Stinson's resume video with varying expressions of incredulity on their faces, then turned to look at each other.

"Not an incubus," they said at the same time.

"People are _weird_," Dean said. "Impossimpible? What is that supposed to _mean_? And that got him hired?"

"I have no idea. But I think 'impossimpible' pretty much rules out the incubus thing. Demons just don't _think_ that way."

They heard footsteps coming down the hallway.

"Um, Dean, I think we'd better get out of here," said Sam.

"Hold on. There's just one more thing I want to check out here..."

Dean unscrewed the top of his flask and took a swig, waiting by the door. When Angela Moore came back in, he jumped and sputtered, spraying water all over her - water which then proceeded to smoke and hiss as she screamed.

"Sam! The trap!" Dean yelled, wrestling her into her chair.

Sam slammed his handkerchief, adorned with a Devil's Trap, on her throat as Dean undid his belt to tie her hands with.

"Who do you work for?" Sam asked.

The demon chuckled. "Goliath National Bank, of course."

Sam started chanting an exorcism as Dean took over the questioning. "Why are demons working here?"

Her head lolled and jerked. "It's the Apocalypse!" she shrieked. "Economic and political turmoil is the beginning of the end!"

"How many others are there here?" Dean demanded.

"Hundreds! You'll never get all of us!" the demon screamed before the exorcism ejected a thick cloud of black smoke from the woman's throat. Dean undid her hands hastily as she came to.

"Where am I?"

"Take it easy. Just head downstairs, okay?" Sam said, guiding her towards the door. He turned to Dean. "How did you know, anyway?"

"It was the ninja. Anyone taking that as casually as they were obviously had _way_ bigger issues on the go."

The brothers exchanged glances. They knew what they had to do next.

And just like that, Dean Smith and Sam Wesson were back in business.

If they had to - indeed, were forced to - say so themselves, their resume videos (written and directed by none other than the great Marty of "Hell Hounds III: The Bloodening" fame) were nothing but fantascimazing and plentiferous. 


End file.
